


Sip it, sip it, I'll bet that you'll blush

by nomadwidow



Series: Ain't you ever seen a princess be a bad bitch? [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Eloping, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Foreplay, Honeymoon, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Modern Royalty, Mutual Masturbation, Porn, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Princes & Princesses, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 10:39:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19355347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomadwidow/pseuds/nomadwidow
Summary: Royalty AU. Steve and Natasha elope and honeymoon in Greece. Sequel toCan’t nobody love you there like I do.





	Sip it, sip it, I'll bet that you'll blush

**Author's Note:**

> Winterwitch is a background relationship, in this story.

It’s a hot, humid summer day in Greece—Steve and Natasha’s elopement ceremony had concluded. Both at 28 years old, they were wed in Santorini—with the now-Queen of Sokovia, Wanda, and her prince consort, Bucky, as their witnesses. 

 

And the entire time, Natasha was aroused.

 

They’re climbing the staircase that leads to the honeymoon suite of their hotel, now, which felt forever—she couldn’t withhold her arousal much longer. She lets go of Steve’s hand to shove him against the wall, causing him to grunt in surprise. A second nature, his hands land on her waist, his biceps tight against the fabric of his jacket. His sleeves are rolled up, the veins on his forearms visible while flexing. 

 

Her left hand, the hand with the new, gold band on her ring finger, is gripping his cock through his slacks, her body pressed to his. Her right hand reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket, pulling her black, lacy thong, in lieu of a handkerchief , and dangling it from her hooked finger. He just smirks in response.

 

“You are so fucking kinky for a prince,” she murmurs against his lips, her left hand massaging his still-clothed groin.

 

“You wore those panties yesterday, too, if you recall.” With his left hand, the hand wearing a band that was identical to hers, he snatches the thong and smells it, perversely. “My wife smells so fucking good.” 

 

She groans, taking hold of his necktie and pulling him in for one more kiss—the kiss heavy, hot, and rough. 

 

“And tastes incredible,” he murmurs against her lips, this time.

 

“If you keep this up, I don't know if I can make it to the room,” she says, breathlessly, as his mouth trails down her exposed neck, his teeth coming out to tease the skin. 

 

He lifts his head and looks at her with incredulous eyes. “You want me to rip your dress off?” He asks of her wedding dress.

 

 

“Fine, you have a point,” she says with a small pout.

 

He chuckles. Then, he looks at her with an idea, smirking once more. He pockets the thong, and carries her into his arms, bridal style. She yelps in surprise, laughing. “We still have more to climb.”

 

“We’ll get to the room, faster,” he says as he carries her up. 

 

She smirks, arousal heightening more. “Show-off,” she moans, tugging his earlobe with her teeth, earning a moan from him, too. “They teach you this in the Army?” 

 

He stops to kiss her, briefly, but hard. “I just want to fuck you already, okay?” 

 

She giggles as he continues up the stairs, running, the rest of the way—her still in his arms, as they storm through their doors.

 

* * *

 

 

The honeymoon suite was decorated with rose petals, trailing from the door, to the bed, to beneath the pillows, with a bucket of champagne, on ice, waiting, and a card that says, “To Their Royal Highnesses, Prince Steven and Princess Natalia Alianovna of the United States of America”. 

 

But the champagne has gone flat, the ice has melted, and the rose petals have been squashed into the bed sheets, because the second that they opened the doors, they had wasted no time in exploring each other’s bodies, for the first time, as husband and wife. 

 

Steve and Natasha’s wedding attire are on the floor, in a heap, and their naked bodies are flushed with heat and covered with perspiration. As they lay in bed, spent, he kisses her temple, leaving his lips there as he mumbles, “I can do this forever.”

 

Her arm over his chest, and her leg over his stomach, she presses her lips to his neck. “I can’t believe we’re married.”

 

“You regret it already?” He jokes, a smirk teetering off of his lips. She swats his sticky chest. 

 

He hooks a finger under her chin, places a sensual kiss on her lips, tongues playing. Their kiss heats up; he slides down the bed to eat her more. Their hands lace together as she bucks into his face, her pussy needy, once more.

 

Meanwhile, her mobile phone vibrates. They don’t hear it; her moans and screams fill out the space between the walls. It’s her father.

 

* * *

 

 

On that evening, it was hard for Steve and Natasha to leave the suite. But they had to—Wanda and Bucky were expecting them for dinner.

 

At the restaurant, Steve and Natasha are sitting next to each other, their chairs pushed together, her hand in his, resting on his thigh; they sit as close to the table as possible. 

 

While Steve talks to Wanda and Bucky, Natasha massages Steve’s cock through his jeans, under the table. He's trying to keep a straight face, keep it together, though difficult—with one hand, she unbuttons his jeans and unzips his zipper before reaching into the opening of his boxer briefs, and freeing him. She takes him in her hand, stroking him slow and tight. 

 

He wants to moan. His eyes close, in pleasure or pain, Natasha can't tell—his long eyelashes quivering on his cheeks. As he’s about to, once his cock is wet and hard, she pulls her hand away. Smirks. The fucking tease.

 

He looks at her with an evil leer. She smiles, innocently, before conversing with Wanda and Bucky. 

 

As payback, Steve pulls Natasha’s leg on top of his, spreading her apart. She yelps, softly, resulting in confused looks from Wanda and Bucky. Natasha tries to move them on, by continuing to talk, though difficult—it was hard to form words, as Steve slips his hand under her skirt, pulling her panties to the side and rubbing her. 

 

She wants to open her mouth, moan, especially when he pushes two fingers into her; she can hear her own juices sloshing inside. When he knew that she was close to exploding, he pulls his fingers out of her. She almost whimpers. He smiles, innocently. 

 

With no shame, and no patience, she drags him to a private bathroom, where he carries her in a 69 position—she sucks and slobbers over his cock while he buries her face in her wet pussy, hooking her legs over his shoulders. 

 

She pops his cock out from her lips with an obscene slurp, when she feels an orgasm coming—her back arching forward, her head tilting back. She moans when he does, his moan vibrating against her pussy. She comes, and as soon as her orgasm subsides, he bends her over the sink to fuck her. 

 

They’re both watching their fucking in the mirror and, soon enough, he comes inside of her, aroused by their kinks.

 

Meanwhile, Wanda and Bucky are still sitting at the table, chuckling at their horny friends.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve and Natasha pay a visit to a winery in the flatter side of Santorini. During the middle of their private tour, he takes her hand in his and dips her finger into the barrel, grape juice dripping down on it, sucking it clean, delicately, his eyes dark and fervent. She bites her lower lip and moans with a sigh.

 

The tour finishes, and they sneak off to behind the wine barrels, with clusters of grapes in their hands. Once he strips her clothes, he feeds her a grape berry, and they pass it between them, using their tongues and mouths. Then, he paints her body with the berries, until she’s covered in the juices from the berries. He licks her clean, while fingerfucking her cunt, sending her into raptures. 

 

When he’s done with her, she takes the remaining berries, and uses its juices to coat his cock with, her hand sliding up and down with ease. She tastes the juices, including his own, as her mouth wraps around his length, hungrily. He’s close to coming, so he sits her on top of a barrel and fucks her until she’s filled with juices, his and the berries.

 

* * *

 

Steve is flying a small, private jet over the Aegean Sea and its coastline. He’s supposed to be teaching Natasha how to fly, and they’re supposed to be sightseeing. Instead, she’s giving him a blow job and a hand job.

 

“I thought you wanted to learn how to fly,” he tries to chuckle, but ends up moaning.

 

She continues to jerk him off as she purrs in his ear, nipping at his earlobe, “Your teaching was turning me on.”

 

“Fuck, baby, you’re going to make me crash,” he breathes out, moaning once more.

 

“Then, look to what you’re doing, Your Highness,” she smirks before her lips return to his cock. She continues to blow him until he’s thrusting into her mouth, and he’s cursing and moaning as he comes in her mouth, and she swallows, all of it.

 

She wipes her lips with her fingers and gives him a flirty look with her emerald greens, flashing him a smirk, as she zips him back up and sits back in her seat. “All right, Captain, how do you fly this thing?”

 

* * *

 

They’re on a yacht—docked, engine off, for thirty minutes, now. She’s on the deck, and tanning—lying down, elbows behind her, propping herself up, a pair of wireless earbuds in her ears. He’s next to her, lying sideways, head resting on his left arm, while sketching on a sheet of paper in his sketchbook. 

 

He smirks at the sight of her, naked. Her skin is tanned, glistening with sweat and sunscreen. Her hair’s still wet from when they jumped off of the yacht, and skinny-dipped into the sea. He adjusts his cock beneath his swim trunks, before continuing to draw.

 

She proceeds to lie on her stomach; her peripheral vision catching him, his attention undivided on his sketchbook. She smirks at the sight of him, his abs and chest glistening with sweat, muscles taut and toned, a hint of an erection popping up, above the waistline. Just looking at him was making her want to touch herself.

 

Elbows still propping her up, she pulls her earbuds out, footsies him. He lifts his head up, his pen frozen on the paper, and smiles at her.

 

“I haven’t seen you draw in a while,” she smiles back, nodding her chin at him. “What d’you got there?”

 

He nods, his chin lifted, proud. “See for yourself.”

 

She smiles at him as she grabs the sketchbook off of him. Her mouth agapes as she stares at the sketch in front of her. 

 

He was drawing her.

 

The detailing of her naked body is perfect. Every curve. Every muscle. Every swell. Yes, it was erotic, but it was beautiful, classy, and professional, too. And it should be framed and hung at a gallery, museum, whatever of that nature. He’s so god damn good.

 

She closes the sketchbook, and climbs on top of him; his hands slide down to her ass, squeezing it firmly. She kisses him, deeply, her hands tangling in his wet hair. “Я люблю тебя.”

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha is resting her chin upon her arms, while perching on the wall of their own infinity pool in their suite, and gazing out at the sea, the last of the sun’s rays breaking over Santorini. She hears a splash behind her; Steve is swimming to her. He rests his arms over hers, laces their fingers together, drops his head into the crook of her neck and tells her that he loves her in Russian.

 

He pulls her left hand to his lips, and kisses her wedding ring. She leans her head on his chest. “I don't want to face my parents, tomorrow.”

 

“As long as we're together, we can do everything,” he says, kissing her temple. “We can endure and overcome.”

 

She turns to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands rest under her ass as her legs wrap around him. “Thank you, my prince, for saving my family and me, even if my parents don’t approve.”

 

He smiles, and grazes her nose with his. “Marrying you was a no-brainer. I get to have you be the person I spend the rest of my life with.”

 

Her fingers thread into his blond hair. “What changed your mind? About me?” 

 

He quirks his eyebrow and squeezes her ass, puzzled as to how she could ask such a question.He pulls her closer, as if their bodies aren't close enough. “Who said I changed my mind? It’s always been you, Natasha. I wanted you around forever.” 

 

Perhaps, she should've been shocked, but she wasn’t.

 

She smiles. “I never regretted loving you, Steve. And I made the perfect choice, marrying you.”

 

He smiles, and kisses her throat. “Thank you, baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> Я люблю тебя /YA lyublyu tebya/; I love you


End file.
